When I was at the church on Saturday, working on my icon, I decided I could go the one block to my old house and take a picture. I loved this house. I lived there for three years as I was recovering from my divorce. I would have liked to buy it, but in the 3 years I lived there, the neighborhood was “gentrified” and I could no longer afford it. Even though it is a tiny house with crumbling foundation, it is worth lots of money, just for its location. I ran into my old landlady a year or so ago, and she still misses me. I miss her too.
I think of the fact that if I lived in that house, I could ride my bike to work every day. I could walk over to the icon workshop. I could pop over to my homegroup without driving 30+ miles. Oh well. I moved close to my job 14 years ago. And now it is not close to my job. But I do live less than a mile from my daughter, and three miles from my son… and that is all worth a log.
I didn’t have time to write this as I started, and now I need to leave for the bus. The nice bus. I needed to get to an unexpected meeting yesterday and rode the regular bus home – an hour on a crowded bus with the unwashed masses. I have no prejudice except that of hygiene. I had to pray not to throw up or panic. The odor was so bad. The saints who have visited hell report that the smell is horrifying. That alone should lead me to a live where I strive to be a saint!
No time for quote, sorry.